


molding stories out of clay

by tongham



Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Art School, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tongham/pseuds/tongham
Summary: “excuse me if this is too much,” he says, eyes focused on the screen and fingers tapping at numbers, “but may i at least have the honour of knowing your name?”slightly baffled by the straightforwardness, the student smiles anyway and answers accordingly, playing along. “seongmin. and you?”the boy looks up from his work and blinks, motioning to his silver name-tag etched with neat lettering.minhee.“ah. of course.” seongmin’s voice falters off as minhee rings in the last product and glances at the other boy again, laughing gently in a way that doesn’t make seongmin defensive, doesn’t make him raise the fortress of a sharp response.“it’s fine. your total today is 15,000 won.”
Relationships: Ahn Seongmin/Kang Minhee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	molding stories out of clay

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!
> 
> i'm back with seongmini, minijeu, whatever you like calling them! their tag actually seems to be a bit dry, that's kinda sad... :( someone applaud me for not making thing gongtang like i do with everything else, i was considering it haha
> 
> getting back on speed!! i needed a little word count boost so sorry if it shows here (as in it's too dragged-out, i started writing late tonight and i didn't have much time away from it for epiphanies). anyway,, enjoy!
> 
> title from i feel like chet by mxmtoon.

seongmin loves art, he hates school. when it comes to the existential paradox of art school, he concludes that, on the eve of friday – thursday doesn’t deserve a name, its own identity anymore – as he stares down his canvas laying on a bed of newspaper across his tiny dorm, he ultimately  _ despises _ art school.

the freshman sighs as he paces the room, quickly coming to a stop before he turns around again, faced with his hateful project.  _ not right. _ seongmin’s never been a one-way kind of guy, easy on his own and others’ art, until it began to matter to him as it does to professors in little downtown studios.  _ the shadows aren’t right. _ seongmin would be grasping at his hair if he wasn’t aware of the risk of ripping it out, pressure mounting on little details that used to be intuitive to him as he sketched.

willing away the negative thoughts, he clears his mind for a moment, just long enough to pull up his contacts.

“seongmin?” the voice echoes tinny through the speaker. seongmin keeps the phone at a distance, sensitive to the noise and room quiet enough to hear clearly. “what’s wrong? are you in danger?”

“yes,” seongmin says, “i’m going to die if i can’t get this just right for tomorrow. tell me, woobin, are shadows really supposed to be this complex?”

“no. you’re overthinking it.” seongmin wants to hang up immediately on his senior, finger hovering over the fateful red button. obviously oblivious to his threat, woobin continues. “studies are supposed to be hard, seongmin. the entire purpose of art school is to confuse us.”

“you’re telling me,” seongmin laughs shortly.

“hey, it’s making you question what you’re used to, right?” seongmin nods distractedly, further investigating his work to pick apart any perceived flaws. as if the elder can read his mind, even at a distance, he speaks up. “i know it’s useless but the best advice i can give you is to just do what feels right. and don’t conform exactly to the lessons, you’ll lose your personal touch and they’ll notice that.”

seongmin nods firmly, forgetting woobin can’t see him. “okay. thank you. sorry for bothering you.”

“oh, don’t ever worry about that. good luck, seongmin.”

talking to woobin always clears his mind, the senior student wise and so attuned to seongmin’s anxieties – it’s an unspoken assumption but woobin probably sees seongmin as a younger version of himself, a reflection of his 18-year-old self.

the line goes dead and seongmin tucks his phone away once again, eyes falling more kindly on his canvas. “what are we gonna do with you,” seongmin mutters to himself, relaxing enough to settle into the longtime habit of talking to his art.

willing to risk the health of his spinal cord over the embarrassment of spending way too much time in a school studio, seongmin lowers himself to the ground again with his watercolours, legs crossed as his brushstokes dance calmly across the canvas – very different from his naturally-assumed position of hunched shoulders, obstructing the light as seongmin wallows in self-fulfilled misery.

as the story always goes, seongmin is not destined to have a single night of uninterrupted peace. as the story always goes, seongmin runs out of at least one pan – spice,  _ it’s always spice,  _ the perfect all-purpose beige and the student’s go-to since he relocated a number of months ago.

sighing in mild defeat, seongmin does a few stretches before standing up, pocketing some cash to run down to the local arts-and-crafts shop. careful as the papers shuffle below his socked feet, the student slips out the door and books it for the elevator.

following a light jog to his destination, seongmin arrives at the small storefront, as cozy and welcoming as he last left it a few days prior. the miniature chimes on the door ring upon his entrance and an employee comes scurrying out of the storage room. seongmin smiles curtly at him, store unbusy at this hour, and the tall boy nods in recognition of the student.

seongmin doesn’t waste any time – neither his own nor the single part-timer – knowing exactly where to find his much-loved pan. alongside the necessity, he adds on an extra pair for the sake of insurance.

“13,500 won,” the cashier delivers the verdict and seongmin hands over a bill, promptly accepting the change.

taking the small blocks in his hand, no plastic bag for the sake of the environment, seongmin is inclined to kindness when he’s in such a good mood. “thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” confusion crosses the art store employee’s face before smiling back in gratitude.

practically floating back down the street, seongmin spends the night into the morning working on his piece, finally growing to love it for what it is.

_ (his project mark is ultimately high, coupled with a well-thought-out reflective paper that takes his little breakdown and twists it into a fun anecdote, a paper that properly acknowledges woobin as seongmin’s emotional support.) _

* * *

in the thick of the semester, new medium after new medium thrown his way, seongmin’s weekly trips to the craft shop steadily transition into daily visits. at first, there’s no pattern on the time of day – early mornings before classes, late nights pressed up against deadlines – but the student’s routine bends to favour darkness once he figures out the part-timer from his watercolour endeavour works a predictable schedule. to keep himself on his toes, because seongmin favours that particular employee, he allows his own procrastination to delay shortage-striken works until after sunset.

when seongmin runs down one tuesday evening for some additional clay – his project is small enough to fit on the desk of his dorm, seongmin just lacks the patience to set everything before it hardens beyond repair – the cashier speaks to him for the first time, discounting cash totals and  _ have a nice day _ s. “what are you even doing with everything you buy? running the world’s largest daycare?”

seongmin laughs, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. “no daycare, just art school.”

“ah,” the boy hums, nodding as he looks up seongmin’s products manually. “excuse me if this is too much,” he says, eyes focused on the screen and fingers tapping at numbers, “but may i at least have the honour of knowing your name?”

slightly baffled by the straightforwardness, the student smiles anyway and answers accordingly, playing along. “seongmin. and you?”

the boy looks up from his work and blinks, motioning to his silver name-tag etched with neat lettering.  _ minhee. _

“ah. of course.” seongmin’s voice falters off as minhee rings in the last product and glances at the other boy again, laughing gently in a way that doesn’t make seongmin defensive, doesn’t make him raise the fortress of a sharp response.

“it’s fine. your total today is 15,000 won.” minhee accepts seongmin’s cash, hand hesitant to pull, resulting in a longer-than-usual moment where their eyes meet. minhee smiles again before sliding the exact change into its proper place. “have a nice evening and good luck on your project.”

turning the package of clay in his hands, seongmin sends minhee a final wave before pushing the door open, chimes singing from above.

* * *

overnight, the atmosphere of the craft shop goes from cozy to cozier for seongmin. the peaceful-yet-eerie silence that once filled the small store on his late-night ventures is pushed up to the ceiling and out the door by an expanding ball of comfortable energy, the back-and-forth small talk between seongmin and minhee that extends the student’s journeys from quick in-and-outs to sidetracked conversations that carry on until woobin’s calling in a panic.

seongmin lets minhee in on what he wants to know but seongmin is the more inquisitive of the bunch, finding out that minhee is one year his senior, an engineering student, and the grandson of a former employee over the course of a single search for standard-sized canvases. he likes listening and learning from minhee, the boy’s a natural storyteller and seongmin finds himself drawn in, lingering around the register with bags full and receipt in hand just to hear minhee complain for an extra minute about coursework seongmin knows not the slightest inkling about.

“i have something to ask you,” seongmin blurts out over the sound of chimes, sun still peeking over the horizon.

“and the tables have finally turned,” minhee’s disembodied voice exclaims, faint rustling heard from the storage room until the taller boy peeks his head around the wall.

“okay, so,” seongmin slides out one of the stools from under the register, pulling it to his proper position as the frequent customer, “i have to do a charcoal portrait for next friday and i was wondering if you’d mind being my subject?”

minhee blinks once, twice and seongmin feels a bit nervous. yes, he considers them friends but is that too perhaps too – “i’d be honoured. i trust you to do all this justice,” minhee says, half-joking, as he gestures at his own face.

“oh, i will,” seongmin returns before he bites his tongue. he’s sure he won’t be the last person to agree that minhee is physically attractive but it’s still embarrassing to the younger boy, cautious to not cross any line that could jeopardize their friendship.

thankfully, minhee doesn’t notice the stutter in seongmin’s step when he sits down on the second stool, environment welcoming as seongmin begins his work – and if he has way too much fun forcibly moving minhee’s head around like one of his little wooden mannequins, who’s there to judge? much more pressing, who’s there to judge if seongmin spends a bit too long staring at minhee?

* * *

as seongmin begins spending more time in the shop to draw minhee, the employee begins to lay more and more information bare by his own volition, including a budding interest in the materials he sorts and counts on a daily basis. that particular admission comes on a rainy sunday, an irregular visit for seongmin and an irregular shift for minhee.

seongmin, terrible friend that he is, can’t help but laugh at minhee’s words – mostly in delight but that doesn’t stop minhee from blinking back with a comically-offended expression on his face. “why? and why so shy about it too?”

minhee glares him down, what he’d consider direct counteraction to seongmin’s little additional observation. his eyes soften upon the following words, daggers inappropriate for what’s to come. “i don’t know, seeing your art and your enthusiasm for it made me like it too?”

seongmin tilts his head, undoubtedly endeared by minhee’s recently-shared interest. “that’s nice. wanna sneak into my campus?”

“huh?” minhee’s neck snaps up from the pencil scratching against the paper of the shop’s ‘very important inventory stuff’ notebook – the employee’s words directly.

“just kidding.” seongmin hits minhee’s shoulder lightly. “it’d be nice to set up an easel out back – that is, if you even have the time at this bustling joint.”

“you’ve been my only customer since i clocked in,” minhee responds flatly.

“lucky me. now let me tell you a thing or two about paints, i’ll let you make your own decisions.” seongmin tugs on minhee’s sleeve to come to the storefront, earning a huff from the elder.

side-by-side, seongmin ushers minhee around the familiar space, pointing out the his tried-and-true ranking of high-quality brands and his favourite shades in all media. minhee listens attentively and time passes easily until the few remaining rays of sunlight hang precariously over the horizon.

raindrops pattering on the awning outside the drafty door that doesn’t close properly, seongmin is educating minhee on why flower bouquets deserve the high standing that fruit baskets have earned when minhee clears his throat, almost as if he has something to say. seongmin pauses, nodding to allow the elder to speak.

“your semester’s almost over, right?”

seongmin nods, innocent and confused. “i have two weeks left.”

“same. anyway, can i take you out for dinner to celebrate?”

caught off-guard, seongmin presses a palm to the wall – gratefully devoid of supplies to knock over – as he regains his balance, careful not to topple forward. “minhee –”

“i just thought since you’ve been coming here to talk about your projects all the time, i understand how hard you’ve been working and you deserve the celebration.”

  
seongmin laughs airily, minhee’s ramblings rendering him breathless. “you didn’t let me finish.”  _ maybe it was never just me. _ he takes a good look at minhee, as if he’s preparing to paint his portrait – seongmin takes in his messy hair, the homely apron tied around his waist, his features softened and rounded by the grey light filtering into the shop. yes, he’s sure about this. he’s sure about minhee. “i was going to say yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! comments + kudos are much appreciated, also reach my line on twitter @deuichas or at curiouscat.me/tongham <3 stay safe everyone!~


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